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Looking out onto the field

Watching the grey, grey grass grow and grow.

Down at the corner shop,

Life continues slow so slow.


I don’t feel you looking down at me.

I can’t abide this desperate family.

I don’t want to eat you

I don’t want to drink you.

Can you take too much? or do you keep on,

Like a ghost through the days.


Its too hard to speak.

You keep the air filled with the inane

For this dark future I am to blame

Watching grime fester in the cracks

Ants crawl through eyes. Into the core.


I am trying so hard

But it all feels wrong. The motivation has gone.

I don’t know what to say.

The brain moves in patterns

I don’t understand now.

I for one have lost control

You used to warm my icy soul

I remember watching it glow and glow.


Providing is fine.  You will have water,

But as for me, who knows where I’ll be?

I had a dream.


I know what they’ll say

I know what they’ll put it down to.

Everyone’s so despicably throw away,

Just like me watching you throw down his life

I suppose he cost enough, so it is ok.

You did a lot, but for you you were flogging a dead horse.


Half the time you didn’t even know what disease he had anyway.


I need to get closer. Show me the way.

Stop scaring me. Give me a clue.

Trigger the brain-they say. It’s like yours now anyway.

And that’s what I have become. A carbon copy of a derelict house.


I need to get closer. I must feel it burn again.

The fires must rise and I must want to be alive.

I have it all on paper – look at my roaring success.

A sweet prince he flies the nest.




Science and Logic

Here I am,

like God’s eternal ATM machine.

Pouring out divinity

like science and your logic.


I am here now,

in the place that broke us up

frightened and alone.

Alive and screaming tryst.


I can’t sleep mate.

Thinking of you,

what you would do,

if you could fit into my shoes.


I know you would slip into them

if you were allowed,

but your souls a white cloud,

So fluffy and light


So here I am.

Like a bruised stick




hitting a bruised wheel.



Alive with my phone,

a permanent symbol of this eternal emptiness.


Go on, take a piece,

everyone else has.

God’s fucking cash machine,

                                                                                       being bitten to death by the cowboys  in my brain.

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